بَكَت لَبَيني بُكاءَ مُكتَئِبِ

صارَ بِهِ وَجهُها مِنَ العَجَبِ

My tender one wept a weeping of melancholy

Her face became astonished because of it

مِن إِثمِدٍ لَم يَزَل يُدَحرِجُهُ

مِن طَرفِها سِربُ دَمعِها السَرِبِ

From an eye whose tears kept on rolling down

A swarm of her teardrops swift as the flow

كَأَنَّهُ في اِصفِرارِ وَجنَتِها

فُصوصُ فيروزِجٍ عَلى ذَهَبِ

As if on the yellowness of her cheeks

Were jewels of turquoise on gold